Hazel - Liam Payne Fic
by ModernMistress
Summary: "He had the most gentle of brown eyes that seemed to stare into the depths of my being." "This stranger is different, he didn't make me feel filthy, but he made me feel vulnerable." "This is not the ordinary."


Do you ever feel like your life is stagnant? Nothing seems to be moving forward and life is just passing you by. Sometimes I feel as if the world is in fast forward around me and I am in rewind. My high school classmates are graduating college, getting married, having children. It has been five years after all. My life mostly consists of daydreaming, too many dreams for one lifetime. In my fantasies I may be an artist, or backpacking across the world, or a performer on Broadway. Instead I am stuck in this monotonous routine and throwing my life away, slowly trying to find what I'm meant to do in this life. Currently living day by day alone, the thought of a relationship just sickens me. I don't play well with others and it's easier to be on my own. Nobody to report to or worry about, just myself and complete freedom.

I quickly shake these thoughts away, if I keep in this mindset work will be tragic. I skip over to my speaker to turn on some music, the Beatles always pull me out of the fog. Looking in the mirror I have finished my transportation from ordinary Olivia to exotic Hazel. This must be what celebrities feel like before walking the red carpet, I always feel like a goddess after putting stage make up on.

My cheekbones are accentuated, my lashes frame my innocent blue eyes, and my full lips are perfectly outlined in red. Tonight my hair is cooperating, this is a rare occurrence, one that should be celebrated. My usual long brunette knots are hanging straight causing my hair to frame my slender face. All that is needed is a gown, preferably a luxurious black fitted dress. Created by a designer that the interviewers are in awe of, one that everybody desires to have. My phone's alarm ends my day dreaming and reminds me of work.

Luckily, I packed my bag before the transformation process. Grabbing my keys off the counter, I quickly rush out the door. The first thing I always do, as I slide into my cramped Civic, is plug my phone to the auxiliary cord. Music is constantly playing through my day. Being able to lose myself in music, no matter the situation. Getting ready for a night at work is never a great thing and music is necessary to lift my mood. I arrive at work, rather too quickly for my liking, but on time.

Leisurely, I stroll through the doors and am greeted, "Good evening Hazel, I hope you're doing well tonight. Look beautiful as always." The door man is always a sweet heart, I've worked here for two years and have yet to ask his name. His name isn't important, none of our names here matter.

Entering the desolate locker room, I'm slightly shocked. Tonight may be tragic after all if there are only three dancers for the entire night. Quickly I strip down out of my clothes and change into my lingerie for the night. Black lace and thigh highs seems like the right choice for tonight. Five years ago, the thought of stripping never crossed my mind. I perceived it as such a dirty and immoral thing to do, but desperate times happen.

Two years ago I found myself completely broke and unable to get a step up in this cruel world. My friend, Hannah, was kind enough to let me live with her rent free while I searched for job openings. After weeks of applying and continually getting turned down, I was as low as I could get. Hannah had been stripping for a few years and talked me into trying it for only a night. She promised that the night would bring me enough money to last for a few weeks, and I believed her. She made dancing sound like a dream job. Create your own schedule, enough money in a single night for rent, drink the night away while working. I gave in and decided to go with her one night and I've never turned back since then.

The nights can be long, the clients can be ruthless, and my reputation can be damaged. Dancing has taught me my self-worth though, given me confidence, and I comfortably live because of my job. It isn't a life time career, just a temporary thing until I figure my life out. Stripping has a bad stigma due to popular belief, but it isn't terrible if you follow the rules. Basically I am a tease, a fantasy if you may. There is something fulfilling knowing that complete strangers are willing to waste their money on you. I'm not ashamed of showing my body, there is nothing wrong with nudity.

Tossing my bag into my locker I slam it shut as I get ready to enter the floor. Pausing in front of the full length mirror to admire myself. The black lace was a good decision as it clung seductively to my body. The dark fabric contrasted well with my fair skin, which works well with the club's black lights. Faintly, the outline of my nipples could be seen through the lace bra. Deciding on my 8" heels was another good choice as it lengthened my short legs. Nobody assumes I am an exotic dancer, I don't fit the stereotype that people hold in their minds. I'm very fit and healthy, drugs were never quite my thing. I'm quite average looking other than the few tattoos my body has, but tattoos are becoming the norm. My innocent demeanor works well for my job, it makes my customers lust after me more. Men fantasize over corrupting the innocent, as disturbing as that is.

Walking onto the floor my first stop is the bar. Liquor is necessary for work, it was the only way for me to loosen up and the owner doesn't mind. The bartender already knows my drink, shots of Patron are always the way to go. "Hazel, main stage," I hear called over the main speakers as I down the shot of liquor. The club has all of five men in it and they're all preoccupied with other dancers right now. Dancing on stage was not how you made your money, especially not on nights like this.

'Drop the Game' is the first song of the night it seems, always a good song to lose myself in. It's a slower song with a seductive beat, always helping me get into character. Provocatively I strut onto the stage, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. Reaching my arms over my head while my hips sway to the music. Reaching for the pole, I decide to just warm up with some simple spins. Lifting myself, I hook my leg around the pole and extend my left leg. Continuing my spins and losing myself in the song, I catch a glimpse of a young man coming to my stage.

Now that I have a small audience of one I decide to do some more difficult tricks to impress them. Throwing my body upside down, I'm able to contort my body into the splits. After a few moments I flip myself to superman and am able to look at this stranger at my stage. His gaze met mine and I start to assess him. He had to be in his early 20's, very confident in himself and had every right to be. There are plenty of clients here that wouldn't get the light of day from me if it wasn't my job. But I wouldn't mind giving this man plenty of my time.

He had the most gentle of brown eyes that seemed to stare into the depths of my being. His dark brown hair was messy, with some of it falling onto his forehead. It was short other than the top of his head, somehow the odd hairstyle suited him. In the club we usually see business men with their shaved heads, not men with an actual hair style. This mysterious stranger had the most perfect of lips that seemed to naturally pout. How I would love to take that plump bottom lip into my mouth, slightly sucking on it. Framing his mouth he had facial hair, which was neatly trimmed. It ran along his jaw and stopped mid cheek, thoughts of running my fingers over it flashed across my mind.

What is this boy doing to me? A few seconds looking at this impeccable man and I'm losing myself to fantasies. This doesn't happen, I refuse to let this happen. The clients aren't supposed to be my fantasy, I'm supposed to be theirs. Gracefully leaving the pole I remove my top as my second song starts. For the first time since I began dancing two years ago, I'm feeling timid. Why must the club be empty tonight? Why must I pay attention to this stranger? I'm not one to back down and I decide to entertain as usual.

Getting on my knees I begin to slowly crawl over to this handsome man who refuses to break eye contact. His confidence is a fucking turn on, I've always enjoyed cocky son of a bitches. As I get closer to him I realize he's more beautiful up close than from afar. His face was so gentle and kind. Typically the men are drunk old men who are there cheating on their wives, who want nothing but to attempt to fuck me. This stranger is different, he didn't make me feel filthy, but he made me feel vulnerable. The look on his face made me want to climb into those strong tattooed arms and never leave them. I'm not sure this feeling is welcomed, I'm too independent to be held by anybody.

I reach the edge of the stage and swing my legs off the edge. Spreading my legs I put my heels on the arm rests of his chair, his eyes still haven't left mine. Running my hands down my short legs I catch a scent from him. He smells like fresh cotton on a spring day, the scent that the wind carries during April. It's refreshing compared to the cheap musky cologne most men wear, I wouldn't be surprised if this was his natural scent. Tilting my head to the left I slowly bite my lip as I sit back up.

Leaning back I lift my hips off the stage and sway them to the music. As I lower my hips back to the stage I see a twenty beside me that the stranger set. "Thank you," I purr as I lift my legs to slam my heels together.

I twist my body to the side enabling myself to stare at this beautiful man. "No problem love," he replied as he slipped me another twenty onto the stage. No customer has called me love and most of them shove money into my G-string, not respectively set it on the stage. This is not the ordinary.

The song was coming to an end, which meant my time on stage was as well. Snatching the twenty off the stage I slide over to retrieve my bra. Rushing into the locker room I sit on the bench putting my head into my hands. Why is this guy even here, obviously he isn't the normal scum I encounter. If that wasn't enough to throw me into a loop, I'm fantasizing about him. It's been over three years since I've been remotely attracted to someone, there is always a connection lacking. But there was a spark between us immediately, on my end at least. Opening my locker I take swig of my liquor I brought with me, hoping it will drown the thoughts.


End file.
